Fear isn't the only toxin
by DrCranesfeartoxin
Summary: Katrina Tassen has met Dr. Jonathan Crane, both soon realize fear isn't the only toxin... MC Fanfiction
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

"Hello, may I speak to Dr. Crane please?"

Katrina questioned, she had just been hired as the secretary to Veronica Jones, one of the lead hospital administrators of Arkham Asylum and Gotham General Hospital.

"One second Miss" his secretary said, she put the call on hold, soft jazz music emanated from the phone.

"I'm afraid Dr. Crane won't be available until 4:00 pm, but if you'd like to make an appointment."

"Would it be at all possible to go in person?" Katrina asked, adjusting the phone on her shoulder.

"Of course, may I know your name and your purpose in coming please?" the secretary replied in a rather sugary tone. "Yes, my name is Katrina Tassen, I am being sent to pick up the file for Victor Zsasz' case."

"Wonderful, you may come any time before 7:00 pm."

"Thank you, have a lovely day," Katrina replied and hung up the phone.

She stood from her desk and walked to Veronica's office, gently knocking on the door.

"Come in," a voice ordered. Gently, she opened the door and peaked into the airy office.

"Ms. Jones, I confirmed with Dr. Crane's secretary to pick up Zsasz' file."

"Good, I'll ask Judy to fill in for you," Veronica replied, never bothering to look up from her computer. Katrina nodded silently and closed the door.

"How was the session, Jonathan?" Dr. Leland asked warmly as Crane stepped out of the patients cell.

"Mundane, useless, a waste of my time," he bitterly thought to himself. Instead Crane faced Dr. Leland and replied, "the patient is responding to treatment, perhaps he may be released soon."

"Well, the patient couldn't be in better hands." Dr. Leland replied flashing one of her signature smiles, Crane nodded curtly, "excuse me Dr. Leland."

He turned and walked towards the elevator, his footsteps echoing through the large hallways of Arkham.

On several occasions had Katrina Tassen seen grandiose buildings. None, however, compared to the allure of Arkham. It reminded one of an old woman, the sort one could tell had once been incredibly beautiful. But as all things, timed robbed her of that beauty. Katrina walked to the immense doors of the decrepit building, and entered the asylum.

Crane sat in his office, reading the details of a new case, a terse knock on his door interrupted his concentration.

"Come in," he responded, almost inaudibly.

"Dr. Crane, a Ms. Tassen is here to pick up Zsasz' case file, may I send her in?" His secretary inquired, Crane adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

"Yes, you may send her in."

A young woman in a lavender ensemble, advanced into his office.

She smiled kindly and extended a delicate hand,"I'm Katrina Tassen, nice to meet you Doctor Crane."

Crane cleared his throat and shook her hand dryly, "nice to meet you, Ms. Tassen."

He stood from the chair and walked towards a large filing cabinet.

"Here you are," Crane said handing her a thick yellow folder, a case number sloppily stamped to the back file.

"Ms. Jones would like to know if you would be available to testify for Zsasz' case." Katrina asked in a soft voice.

Crane met Katrina's eyes, hers were a deep turquoise, while Katrina noticed the ice-like quality in his.

"We'll have to see if the patient is well enough for court," Crane replied, his voice sharp.

"Of course Doctor," Katrina quietly responded.

"Well, Ms. Tassen I have work to do, if that would be all." Crane spoke, closing the drawer of the filing cabinet.

"Oh yes, I'll be on my way, it was a pleasure meeting you Dr. Crane." Katrina said, shaking his hand as a farewell.

"Like wise, Ms. Tassen." Crane responded, Katrina smiled and closed the office door.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Katrina arrived at Veronica's office over a half hour late, the congested traffic causing the lengthy delay. She rushed to her office, hoping Veronica hadn't left yet. Much to her relief, Veronica was in her office, still typing an unfinished memo. Katrina had been so nervous she had forgotten to knock, and hastily opened the office door.

"I am so sorry Ms. Jones, traffic was awful." She spoke between breaths, handing the thick file to Veronica.

Veronica looked at Katrina, she raised an eye brow in annoyance.

"I understand, but next time please be a bit more professional about the situation. You should have foreseen the traffic and left earlier."

Katrina nodded, silently cursing herself for lack of planning.

"Thank you, nonetheless, you may go home."

"Thank you, Ms. Jones, have a good evening." Katrina replied, walking out of the office.

The second movement to Beethoven's "Pathetique," emanated from a laptop as Jonathan experimented with his fear toxin.

He had been thinking of making alterations to the recipe and perhaps adding temporary paralysis or seizures. He had turned the spare room of his apartment into a laboratory of sorts. Complete with a large chalkboard and a long table filled with vials, instruments and the like.

He sloshed around brightly colored chemicals in a glass container, humming to the piano's melody. Briefly, his thoughts turned to Katrina.

Crane found her to be reasonably intelligent and well spoken. There was a modest grace about her, an elegant undertone to her demeanor.

He was usually never taken with a woman at first glance, but Katrina was different.

Crane smirked, he loosened the tie around his neck, and continued with his experiments.

She slowly lowered herself into the tub. The water, soft and warm, a welcome relief to her tired and stressed body. Katrina laid her petite shoulders and neck on the brim of the porcelain tub. Sighing in tranquility, as she basked in its soothing embrace.

Her thoughts wandered from the book she was reading to Dr. Crane.

The first thing she noticed was his immaculate intelligence. He appeared refined, his words and actions, fluid and calculated, his mannerism dry. All of this, adding to the strange enigma of his being.

After her bath, she dressed herself in cream colored slip. Katrina lied on her bed, the background noises of the city, a familiar lullaby. Soon after, the pleasant lull of sleep overcame her, eventually dozing off into a nightmare filled slumber.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

In which I explain the origins of Jonathan Crane.

_"Little minds attain and are subdued by misfortune; but great minds rise above them." – Washington__ Irving _

"Johnny, Johnny wake up."

He smiled at his mother's gentle voice calling him from sleep. Slowly he opened his drowsy eyes, his mother's kind face would greet him, he would hug her and tell his mother how much he loved her.

Jonathan opened his eyes to an empty room, the boy's mother nowhere to be seen. His mind had ruthlessly teased him, again.

Jonathan heard his father's heavy and lumbering footsteps ascend the stairs. Scurrying out of bed, he quickly fixed the blankets and pillows. His father opened the door, Jonathan stood tall, shoulders squared and chin up.

"Good morning Jonathan," his father's deep laconic voice greeted.

"Good morning sir," Jonathan replied; his father looked on disapprovingly.

"School is in ten minutes, I want you ready in five."

Jonathan's lower lip trembled, "yes sir," he replied in a wavering voice. The burly man scowled, in an instant he was less than an inch from the young boy's face.

"Is that _fear_ I see Jonathan?" He interrogated, Jonathan, afraid of upsetting his father further, quickly replied "no sir."

"Jonathan look at me," the man barked while roughly grabbing Jonathan's chin with his hand.

"_Fear is for the weak!"_

"Is that how I raised you Jonathan?" The boy averted his gaze, "No sir, l just don't want to go to school."

"Well Jonathan I could care less what you want, I want you down stairs in five minutes." He slammed the door with great force, a framed picture on the wall fell with a crack. Jonathan scooped down to retrieve it, a picture of his mother and him by the bay, he wiped a loose tear and listlessly rehung the cracked picture on the wall.

"Jonathan Crane," Ms. Myrtle's energetic voice called.

Jonathan sighed before weakly replying, "here." As luck would have it Samuel, a seventh grader who relished in making Jonathan's life miserable chose to sit next to him that day. He sneered at Jonathan and kicked him under the desk. Jonathan hadn't even bothered telling the teacher anymore, that would only mean a severe beating from Samuel.

After class, all the children were allowed outside for a half hour recess.

Jonathan quietly took his book and sat down on the furthest swing, avoiding contact with the other children.

"Hey look, it's Ichabod Crane! I hear he scared his mother to death!"

They pointed and mocked "What a _freak!" _

Jonathan covered his ears, the only escape from their relentless taunting. He moved from the swing to the cool shade of the school's large oak tree. Hoping to find some peace from the children's mocking and sneers. Jonathan had been quietly reading, when suddenly, a shower of dirt hit his face. He sputtered, his eyes watering from the dirt in his nose, slowly he looked up. Samuel was looking down at him, a smirk plastered across his freckled face. The boy ruthlessly yanked of Jonathan's glasses. Jonathan swung around, the world a milky blur. He felt someone grab his shirt collar and lift him off the ground.

"Whatcha doin' Ichabod?"

Jonathan felt spittle pepper across his face

"Look at me when I'm talking to you Crane!" He barked, roughly throwing Jonathan against the tree's rough bark. Peter, one of the kids who partook in Samuel's bullying, snatched the book Jonathan was reading, and viciously threw it in the dirt. Jonathan winced at hearing his book hit the dirt with a loud thump. Peter then proceeded to roughly push Jonathan's damaged glasses across the bridge the boy's nose.

"May I have my book back please?" Jonathan asked, blinking away tears behind the cracked lenses.

"Ichabod you are a _freak_!" Samuel wound up his fist and slammed it across Jonathan's cheek, pushing him to the floor while laughing and teasing him.

He lied on the floor, Samuel's laugh ringing in his ears. He felt the warm trickle of blood run down his chin and drip to the floor. Jonathan wiped the drops of blood and rolled to his side in an attempt to stand up, receiving a blow to his stomach, it was Samuel's foot.

The boy wheezed and sputtered, the kick caused a spreading, burning sensation across his abdomen. Quickly he scrambled to his feet and ran to retrieve his book.

"Look at him!" they teased and pointed, "all he cares about are his stupid books!"

Jonathan picked up the muddy book and turned his back to Samuel.

"Hey Crane!" the boy called out running after Jonathan, "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry that you're such a freak show your mom died, she died because she _hated_ you." Jonathan stumbled back and ran, his mind flooding with repressed memories of his mother.

Patricia Crane was a sick woman, she had Generalized Anxiety Disorder and Schizophrenia among other things. Jonathan had been a result of an unplanned teen pregnancy, she was 17, his father 25. Though her illness seemed controlled through medication and therapy, she worsened throughout the pregnancy. The doctors blamed it on the fluctuating hormone levels so common in pregnancy, and doubled the medication.

After Jonathan was born her mental state kept declining, Jonathan vividly remembers a certain panic attack she had.

Halloween was only three days away, Patricia felt well enough to perhaps celebrate this year, she took a very excited six year old Jonathan to his first pumpkin patch. He searched for biggest pumpkin he could find, running through the rows of the bright orange pumpkins. His mother looked towards the center of the patch, a solitary scarecrow hung limply, supported by a wooden crucifix.

She pointed with a trembling hand, "Jonathan what is that?" Jonathan looked towards the scarecrow, guided by her pointing finger.

"It's a scarecrow mommy," Patricia's breathing grew agitated, she fell to her knees and wailed in fear. "RUN JONATHAN, RUN! DON'T LOOK AT IT, IT'LL KILL US!" Jonathan, not being able to fully understand what was happening, started crying as Patricia fell to the floor in hysterics.

After that day she was admitted into Arkham Asylum for treatment. The boy had only gotten to see his mother twice, for her birthday and Christmas. He tried speaking to her, she rocked in the corner, endlessly repeating the same words, "scarecrow... scarecrow..."

Jonathan returned home late that evening. After a decent 10 minutes of witnessing his father's rage, he was sent to his room, his face stinging from a fresh slap.

It was 11:00 pm, Jonathan was reading on his bed, unable to fall asleep. The familiar heavy footsteps of his father, advanced towards Jonathan's room.

The man opened the door and cleared his throat, Jonathan closed the book in his hands and looked at his father.

"Jonathan I have decided you will go live with your grandmother Keeny." Jonathan stared at his father wide eyed, the man shifted his feet and continued. "She's a good Christian woman who will raise you with appropriate strictness and morals."

"Pack your bags you leave in the morning," his father ordered, turning from the boy and closing the bedroom door.

Jonathan sat on his bed reflecting on what this decision implied, when he heard a gentle tapping the window. He glanced and his eyes were met with a jet-black crow, alternating between squawking and tapping.

He looked beyond the crow into the horizon, a solitary scarecrow flailing in the wind.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

In which I explain the origins of Katrina Tassen.

_"There are people who have money and people who are rich."- Coco Chanel_

"Katrina sit up straight!"

Her mother snapped, Katrina shifted in her chair and smoothed the wrinkles of her skirt. Her shell-pink dress felt tight, almost restraining , the tulle underneath made her itchy.

Dinner at her parent's mansion was always and extravagant affair, she looked around the room filled with pretentious people happily drinking and laughing.

The women's faces were heavily painted, and just as heavily applied, were their perfumes. The men dressed in crisp, dark suits, their hair slicked back and shiny. Katrina observed as her father offered fragrant Cuban cigars to his friends, their wives would occasionally pass by the box and take a cigar, flirtatiously smiling while doing so.

Katrina knew where this would lead, a crowd Gotham's elite, tipsy and gambling. The air dense with bitter, blue cigar smoke, a cosmopolitan cocktail would be occasionally spilled, only to be hastily cleaned by the young waiters, the children of the invited, ignored. This opulent scene, under the glow of Audrey Tassen's lavish Swarovski crystal chandelier.

Katrina sighed heavily, bored of idle chatter and greeting poshly dressed couples who referred to as "Burt's daughter." However, she felt better knowing Bruce was there, Audrey and Burt Tassen always invited the Wayne's.

Bruce was her only friend, the children understood each other, rich parents, luxurious homes, all the toys they cared for. But none of this replaced what these children truly craved, loving parents.

After much persistence from Bruce and Katrina, their parents permitted the children to play outside.

The night air was balmy and warm, a reminder of the fading summer. The children advance to a solitary swing, miniscule in comparison to the massive elm tree. They admired the dark sky, freckled with silver stars. An owl's melancholy hoot, echoing through the property.

"One day I'm going to leave this place." Bruce declared, Katrina turned her attention from counting the stars to his words.

"Where will you go Bruce?" she questioned, sitting on the swing.

"Somewhere far and away," he declared, dusting the loose grass blades from his suit.

"Don't leave me Bruce you're my best friend!" Katrina protested, "you're coming with me Katrina!" Bruce said with a playful push. She smiled, thinking of all the wonderful adventure they would have, riding elephants, climbing the tallest mountains, all with her best-friend.

Two years had passed and tragedy hit the children.

It was raining so very hard that morning. Katrina can almost hear the sounds of the drops hit the umbrella till' this day. A sea of black passed through St. Catherine's Cemetery in downtown Gotham.

Katrina and a shy brown-eyed girl named Rachel, held Bruce's hands through the funeral procession. Martha and Thomas Wayne had been murdered, leaving Bruce an orphan.

Their dark wooden caskets slowly lowered into the deepest pit Katrina had ever seen, a chill traveled up her spin knowing they would spend eternity in their dark tomb. Fragrant floral wreaths adorned their grave sites, prayers were uttered, through the ceremony Katrina would glance at Bruce, occasionally offering him a linen handkerchief.

"And now, Bruce Wayne would like to say some words about his parents," the priest announced, his voice hoarse.

A tall man with salt and pepper hair and kind eyes, emerged from the crowd of mourners. He gently clasped Bruce's shoulder, the young boy looked at him blinking back tears, the man nodded in silent understanding. He walked towards podium, tall and dignified.

"I will speak for young Bruce, I am Alfred Pennyworth faithful butler to the Wayne family."

Bruce was never the same after his parent's death, he became bitter and distant. Katrina tried understanding him, but it seemed she lost the kind boy whom she bonded with so dearly.

Eight years later Katrina was sent to boarding school.

"It's for the best Katrina we assure you, "Mildred's" is Gotham's finest boarding school ." Her parents reassured her, they stood arms crossed, waiting for Katrina to reply.

"May I finish packing please?" Katrina questioned, her voice almost inaudible, Audrey and Burt sighed an left the room, irritated with their daughter ungrateful attitude.

"One day I'm going to leave this place…"

She smiled, remembering the warm summer evening they had spent, talking and admiring the stars. Katrina hadn't spoken to Bruce in years, and at times missed him dearly.

She stared out the taxi's window, the light raindrops obscuring her view of the city. Katrina was being interviewed for the position of secretary to Veronica Jones.

The cab halted in the front of an office building, she stepped out of the taxi, umbrella in hand.

Katrina entered the building, and walked to a young man sitting at a large desk.

"Excuse me, where is Veronica Jones' office?"

The young man looked at Katrina and smiled, "Veronica is on the eighth floor, office 125."

"Thank you," Katrina replied politely.

She knocked on Veronica's office door, "come in," a voice curtly responded.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Jones," Katrina greeted warmly.

"Good afternoon Ms. Tassen, please sit," Veronica replied, gesturing to the chair in front of her desk. She turned on an old Radioshack voice recorder and began the interview.

"How old are you, Ms. Tassen?"

"I am twenty-three years old, Ms. Jones."

"What is your current occupation, and living situation?"

"I am a student at Gotham University, I currently live in an apartment in downtown Gotham."

"Have you ever worked before?"

"Infrequent summer jobs, never anything steady."

"What is your major?"

"I am studying Bereavement Counseling."

"Well Ms. Tassen, you'll still have to do some paperwork and the mandatory drug-test, but you got the job."

"Oh, thank you Ms. Jones, thank you very much," Katrina replied with a warm smile. Veronica paused the voice recorder and stored it away in her desk.

"You start tomorrow, I'll need you to pick up a case file."

"Perfect, where do I go pick up this file?"

"Arkham Asylum."


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Katrina awoke to a cool and bright autumn morning.

She stretched her arms with a sleepy yawn, and glanced at the clock, its thin hands read 7:00 am. Sighing, she swung her legs over the couch and readied herself for class.

Katrina walked into the grand halls of Gotham University, strolling to class, book in hand, oblivious to the world around her. Arriving at classroom 218, she quietly stepped in and advanced to her usual seat by the large window. Her professor was at his desk organizing papers for the lecture.

Dr. Mathias, a serious rather brusque man, who appeared to be in his late sixties, had taught psychology at the school for over twenty years. Katrina was particularly fond of his lectures, and psychology rapidly grew to be her best subject.

"Good morning class," the man greeted in a grave tone. "Today we will study aggressive behavior in children and its possible causes."

The sound of hurried knocking, interrupted Crane's silent reading.

"Come in," he ordered in a flat tone.

"Good morning Jonathan, do you have the papers ready for court?" Dr. Leland questioned, smiling warmly at Dr. Crane.

He sighed and adjusted his glasses, "yes doctor, everything is in order."

"Wonderful Jonathan, good luck."

"Thank you doctor," he replied, slightly annoyed by her overly-cheerful disposition, she turned and closed the office door.

Today he was testifying for Victor Zsasz, it was to be decided whether the man should be incarcerated or put in Arkham Asylum for treatment. The District Attorney, Rachel Dawes, believed Zsasz was a serial killer whose appropriate punishment would be jail, not therapy.

Crane opened his leather briefcase and examined a small vial of fear toxin, he knew Zsasz _was_ a criminal. His job however, was to make him _into_ a mental patient. Crane closed the briefcase, stood from his desk, and went to pay Victor Zsasz a visit.

Katrina's classes had ended rather early that day, as she walked to her car, her cellphone rang.

"Hello."

"Hello Ms. Tassen, I require your assistance at Arkham today," Veronica declared.

Adjusting the phone on her shoulder Katrina replied, "Certainly, at what time?"

"In a half hour and throughout the rest of the day."

Katrina stepped in her car and searched for her keys, "any specific instructions?"

"The secretary I had at Arkham resigned, you'll be doing whatever paperwork she left."

"Thank you Ms. Jones I'll be there shortly."

Crane stepped into the elevator, and pulled a key from his coat.

Inserting it into the access restriction panel he turned it, with a click, the decrepit elevator descended to the depths of the asylum. He was greeted by the ever present smell of mildew and the maniacal laughter of the criminally insane.

A burly security guard grabbed Crane's shoulder, "I'm going to have to see some identification."

Crane tore his shoulder from the man's grasp and showed him the I.D. The man nodded, and Crane continued to cell 2465. After ascending three flights of stairs he sauntered to Zsasz's cell. Victor Zsasz sat on the floor rubbing the fresh tally marks on his forearm, Crane cleared his throat.

"Hey doc, how are ya?" Victor looked up at Jonathan and grinned, baring his crooked yellow teeth.

"Good afternoon Mr. Zsasz, before you attend court I would like to give you your medicine." Jonathan unlocked the gate of the cell and stepped in.

"Oh yeah I forgot bout' that, you gonna help me out in court, right doc?" Victor questioned, Jonathan placed his briefcase on the mattress.

"Of course Mr. Zsasz, anything for a patient." Opening the briefcase, he retrieved a vile filled with clear, thick liquid and a rather large syringe. Crane lifted the sleeve of Zsasz's jumpsuit and roughly injected the syringe in Victor's arm. He then proceeded to mask himself with "Scarecrow's" burlap sack. Crane enjoyed wearing the sack while experimenting with patients, it showed them the face of fear, the face of Scarecrow.

Victor looked around the cell wide-eyed and panting, in the midst of horrifying visions laden with his worst fears. Crane couldn't contain his grin, the toxin had taken a full ten seconds to provoke a reaction, the best timing so far.

The man wailed and pointed at Crane yelling, "SCARECROW! SCARECROW!"

Satisfied with the reaction, Crane removed the sack and replaced his glasses. He stored away the vile and syringe, taking care to not leave any evidence behind.

"HELP ME DOCTOR! HELP ME!" Victor howled, tearing at the scarred flesh of his arms.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about Mr. Zsasz," Crane replied coolly.

He stepped out of the cell, two security guards raced towards Victor, alarmed by his howls of terror.

"Victor Zsasz is having a panic attack, call the nurse and tell her he is unfit for court."

The security guards nodded, out of breath from running. Crane turned from the scene, a content smirk creeping across his face.

Arriving at the office, Katrina noticed the large stack of unsorted files and paperwork the previous secretary had left. She sighed, and began by chronologically organizing the folders in the filing cabinets. Quietly humming to herself while working, her thoughts preoccupied with classes at the University.

Later that afternoon, Crane heard a gentle knock on his door, "come in," he replied.

Katrina stepped into the office, "Good afternoon Dr. Crane, Ms. Jones would like to know what happened regarding the Zsasz case."

"Well Ms. Tassen, he had a panic attack which ruled him as being unfit to attend court." Katrina observed Crane as he removed his glasses and cleaned the frames.

"I'll send Ms. Jones all the paperwork later this evening," he continued.

Katrina nodded silently and she turned to walk out. "Oh Ms. Tassen, Veronica tells me you're studying to become a grief counselor," Crane lied. He had done his own research on the girl following their first encounter, something about her, piqued his interest.

"Yes Dr. Crane I am," she beamed.

Crane nodded, "very interesting do you happen to take psychology with Dr. Mathias?"

"As a matter of fact I do, I find his lectures fascinating."

Crane looked at Katrina and she smiled prettily.

"_The girl is rather charming,_" he thought to himself and replaced his glasses.

"Well Ms. Tassen, we simply must converse again." "How about you tell me more over dinner tomorrow, at let's say, the BLU at 7:00 pm?" He asked watching Katrina's surprised reaction, she gasped a little and smiled.

"That sound lovely doctor, I'll see you then."

"Until then, Ms. Tassen," Crane replied as she walked out.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

A brief note: I apologize to my readers for taking so long in publishing chapters. I have quite a lot going on in my life right now and finding time to write is rare. I have also forgotten to add in previous chapters that my physical model for Katrina is Michelle Trachtenburg, (for my more visual readers.) Thank you for your comments, favorites and follows. Enjoy!

Crane had never really been on a "date."

The only other woman who had ever interested him was a high school classmate, Sherry Squires. However, Crane never had the opportunity to court her, Bo Griggs certainly would never allow that. He had his revenge though, they had payed for _humiliating_ him.

Crane smirked and glanced at Katrina, she sat across him, genteelly sipping wine from a glass, her turquoise eyes fixed on the candle illuminating their table. After some moments of silence he cleared his throat.

"Well Ms. Tassen, what do you make of counseling thus far?" He questioned in a flat tone, Katrina removed her eyes from the dancing flame and looked at Jonathan.

Managing a small smile she replied "I enjoy it, my professor has even assigned me a patient to work with."

Crane silently nodded before taking a sip of his Bordeaux, their conversation falling into silence. He ran his finger on the rim of the wine glass while observing Katrina gently chew her meal, taking in her delicate beauty. Katrina wiped the corners of her small mouth and quietly exhaled.

"Doctor, may I ask you a question?"

Crane set down his glass, "Of course Ms. Tassen," he replied smoothly.

"Working with the mind as we do, has fear not intrigued you?" "I mean, in my profession, patients suffering from loss often fear what will become of them or their deceased loved ones." "It seems fear is everywhere, weakening and controlling us."

She stared at Crane waiting for a response, "how curious of you to mention fear, Ms. Tassen, I just so happen to do my own private research on this fascinating topic."

A smirk threatened to creep across his face as Katrina's face lit up, "how very interesting doctor, what have you found through your research?"

His answer was interrupted by a young waiter who brought the check. Crane looked at Katrina and answered, "Well as a matter of fact I need to stop by my office briefly, we could go and retrieve some of my files."

She shifted in her seat "do you mean for us to go now?"

"If you wouldn't mind, yes" Crane replied. His experiments and research weren't something he could trust anyone to read or examine. Before trusting her he would unleash her most primal feeling, fear, he would show her how powerful it could be.

"I don't mind at all," Katrina replied, smiling warmly.

They arrived at the asylum, the pale moonlight, lending an eerie appearance to the institution.

"Here we are," Crane said, opening the office door, quietly Katrina stepped into the office.

"Please sit," he urged, feeling a bit uneasy she advanced towards the chair.

"Now Ms. Tassen before I show you my research, there is something I must ask of you." "

Yes Dr. Crane?"

He reached for the briefcase placed upon his desk, "to be able to _fully_ comprehend the originality of my work, one _must_ experience fear first."

With a click the lid of the briefcase opened, Katrina observed him, almost waiting on edge to see what his next action would be.

Crane removed his glasses and placed them in the front pocket of his coat, "I'm afraid I don't understand," Katrina replied.

"I have invented something which I call fear toxin, if you are as interested as you say, on the subject of fear, I could teach you all the intricacies of phobias and the mind."

"That would be wonderful," she replied with a smile, Crane smirked "with the compromise of you being exposed to the toxin."

She swallowed hard, a bit uneasy with his insistence, "Is that necessary doctor?"

Crane had her, she wasn't naïve or ignorant, just a bit more coaxing and carefully uttered words would persuade her.

"Well I really wouldn't insist if it weren't, but if you feel uncomfortable…"

She shifted in her chair, "well yes I am a tad uneasy." There was a pause, a moment where she hesitated, Crane was sure she would leave.

"But I trust you, helping you with your research would be a privilege."

She had consented, yet a part of Crane was repulsed by his own behavior, he was taking advantage of her trusting nature. He set his thoughts aside and retrieved the vile and syringe, selecting a milder dose for less discomfort.

"Will it be too painful doctor?" She questioned, if Crane were a weaker man he would have let her go, ashamed to have almost put her through the frightful ordeal.

"No Ms. Tassen, you will only feel minor discomfort." Katrina lent her arm and Crane gently sanitized it, wiping her creamy skin with an alcohol drenched pad.

"I feel as if things will be very different after this doctor, don't you?"

"Yes Ms. Tassen things will be _very _different."


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

A special thanks to It'sWhishawTime and girlwiththedragontatooine. As always thank you all for your feedback, follows and reviews. Enjoy!

Katrina winced as the needle pierced her skin.

Crane gently set down the syringe and massaged the freshly injected area. "Thank you," she politely responded.

"Doctor, what exactly is the initial reaction?" Before he could reply, her breathing grew shallow. Katrina leapt in her chair and wildly looked around the room.

"What do you see Ms. Tassen?" Jonathan questioned, smirking at her horrified reaction. She waved a hand in the air as if to swat some invisible beast.

They were everywhere, large and black, their deafening screeches tormenting her. A large black crow dived from the air and nipped her skin. Katrina stared at the wound, fresh scarlet drops ran down the back of her hand. The crows flew around screeching and biting, their beady eyes seeming to taunt her.

Crane reached for the burlap sack on his desk and pulled it over his face. She shrank in fear and fled to a corner of the room. Her whales echoing through the room and hallway, no one but Scarecrow could hear her screams of terror.

"MAKE THEM STOP! HELP ME!" Katrina whaled, swatting the air, "THEY'RE BITING ME! IT HURTS!"

The crows were relentless, she stared in horror at her pale arms covered in blood and wounds from the beaks and talons of the birds. It was too much, the world seemed to spin and move under her feet. She grew dizzy and weak, her knees gave way and she fell, consumed by darkness.

Crane ran to Katrina, she had fainted and hit the floor with a sickly thud. He stooped down and lifted her lithe body, gently setting her down on the chair. He stared at her through the holes of the burlap sack, she mumbled softly in her sleep, "scarecrow, scarecrow…"

Slowly, Katrina opened her eyes, a sharp pain in her temples awakening her from sleep. She sat up and looked around the dimly lit room. Crane quietly read, by the light of a solitary lamp, unaware she was awake.

"Doctor?"

"Good evening Ms. Tassen how do you feel?" Crane asked nonchalantly, Katrina shifted in the armchair, her body heavy and sore. When had she fallen asleep? She remembered entering the office sometime around 9:00 pm, the rest was mostly a blur.

"Relieved to be awake from a terrible nightmare," she responded while rubbing her temples.

Jonathan smirked and closed his book, "that was no nightmare, it was this." He stated holding up the syringe, "this Ms. Tassen is my life's work, you have experienced my fear toxin."

Katrina sank in her chair, remembering the frightening episode. "Do you mean to say, that was all a hallucination?"

"Yes Ms. Tassen, it was."

All her logic and common sense told her to run away and call for help. But she couldn't, all she could do was serenely gaze into his blue eyes and listen to him explain the ordeal.

"I have brought you into awareness of _fear_, now I can teach you all you wish to know."

"Doctor, I don't understand, why me?" Katrina questioned, Crane sighed and removed his glasses.

"You want to learn Ms. Tassen, you want to understand and see people for what they really are, ignorant and fearful."

"What do you plan to do with the toxin?" She questioned, genuinely interested in his words.

"Everyone believes they are above the mind, that there fear does not control them." He turned and looked at her, "but they are wrong, fear does control them, no one can surpass the mind's power."

Katrina stood from the chair and walked to him, "but _you _can change that, can't you, with your fear toxin?" "You want to show them how controlled they are by their own mind."

Crane turned to face her, "yes, that would be the ultimate purpose of the toxin."

Katrina glanced at a large clock on the wall, it's thin hands read 12:00 am.

"I-I should go, it is rather late." Katrina spoke, interrupting the quiet.

"Of course," Crane replied adjusting his glasses. She reached for her clutch on his desk and noticed a burlap sack. "I saw this in my hallucination."

Crane smirked, "yes, it is the face of Scarecrow."

"Scarecrow," she repeated stroking the rough burlap, a large re-breather sown into the crevice of the mouth.

"The Scarecrow is my disguise, it is a symbol of fear."


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

Thank you to all my readers for supporting me, the feedback on the last chapter was wonderful! I apologize for the shortness of this chapter, but I promise there are more exciting things to come. Enjoy!

Katrina awoke to the usual wet weather of Gotham, the clouded sun's glare casting a hazy light over the city. "Thank goodness it's Sunday," she thought to herself, relieved from the worry of work or school. She relished in the warmness of the sheets before swinging her legs over the bed and walking to the kitchen. Her thoughts wandered from preparing her morning tea to the events of Friday night.

At first, she thought she had dreamt it all, her horrifying nightmares the result of long stress-full days. Crane explained a reality much stranger than any dream, an invention called fear toxin, the culprit of her nightmarish visions.

Since being exposed to the toxin her mind had been on over-drive. Katrina had re-read most of the psychology textbooks she had. Pouring over the pages, and writing everything down in a thick file. His genius amazed her, part of Katrina thought that by understanding the subject that fascinated Jonathan so greatly, she would also begin to understand _him_. The mysterious, suave and brilliant Dr. Crane, and a person, a separate identity, named Jonathan only seen on the seldom occasion of prolonged eye-contact.

It was one of the rare days Jonathan Crane had nothing to do. Nothing, no work, no therapy sessions, no endless mountains of papers and files to organize and stack, not even a phone call from Dr. Leland. A day solely dedicated to himself and to experimentation. He stood in front of his large chalkboard, lost in his own thoughts, and for a moment he reflected on the events of Friday night.

The toxin worked wonderfully on Katrina, causing such stress on her delicate mind that she had fainted. Upon awakening, Crane explained the ordeal, she listened to everything he said, her eyes wide and attentive.

He dared to think she almost _enjoyed _the experience. Katrina was the only person who knew of his experiments, who knew about Scarecrow.

However, Crane hadn't taken any chances, he had observed her words and behavior, before trusting her with the knowledge of his work. Psychologically he could tell she was a quiet girl, supremely intelligent, poised and independent both of mind and person, overall proving a trustworthy nature.

Crane remembered the question Katrina had asked him before he administered the toxin.

"I feel as if things will be very different after this doctor, don't you?"

"Yes Ms. Tassen, things will be _very_ different."

He smirked slyly, and returned to his experiments.


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

Hello readers! I'm so excited to finally be publishing chapter 9, I hope you all enjoy how Katrina and Jonathan's relationship is transitioning. All excerpts written from "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow" belong to Mr. Irving. -Face claim for Jonathan Crane: Cillian Murphy- Face Claim for Katrina Tassen: Michelle Trachtenberg- Thank you for all comments, follows and favorites. Enjoy!

Monday morning greeted Crane in the form of idle, polite chatter with his co-workers, as well as a futile attempt at a _therapy _session with one of his more difficult patients. He returned to his office and closed the heavy wooden door, briefly, he reclined against its solid surface. Arkham's office wing was unusually silent, Crane could hear the low thrumming of blood in his ears, he found a strange peace in the stillness. Pushing his glasses on the bridge of his nose, he advanced towards the desk and proceeded to write a long and detailed memo.

A terse knock on the office door interrupted Crane's typing, "come in Natalie," he said quietly.

"Dr. Crane one of your patients is having a panic attack, the security guard is asking for your assistance."

With a sigh he turned his glance from the computer screen to Natalie. Crane coolly replied, "I'll be down in a moment."

"Oh, Dr. Crane, Dr. Leland also requested if she may come with you, for assistance."

"No, please tell Dr. Leland that Veronica Jones requested for me to demonstrate whenever possible to Katrina, the realities of working with unstable patients."

"All right doctor, I'll tell Dr. Leland and Ms. Tassen."

"Thank you Natalie."

Natalie smiled warmly, she turned and closed the office door. It hadn't been untrue that Veronica appealed to Crane about Katrina, but not exactly the way he said it. She told him if he needed assistance with any paperwork or filing to ask Katrina, who in Veronica's opinion needed even more work to do. But it was a better alternative than having to deal with Dr. Leland's overly cheerful disposition.

He heard a gentle tap on his door, "come in," Crane ordered.

"Good morning Doctor, Natalie said you needed my assistance?"

"Yes, I'll be needing help with a patient. I thought it could serve as a good learning experience."

"I would be more than happy to assist you."

He nodded and stood from the chair, collecting his briefcase.

For the first time, Katrina noticed his suit, whose sleeves appeared to be a bit short, and the shoulders, slightly large. She giggled as it gave him the appearance of a scarecrow, Crane, unsure at what she giggled at, only half-smiled at her mirth.

They entered the decrepit elevator where Crane, like so many times before, entered the copper key in the access restriction panel. With a jolt the elevator began lowering into the basement, the elevator halted and the doors glided open. Katrina had never been in the patient wing of Arkham, the echoes of insane laughter rung in her ears, she found herself wondering how one could work with such demented people.

"This way Ms. Tassen," Crane called at her as he ascended the flight of stairs. They advanced to a muscular, burly man being held down by two security guards in navy uniforms. The man yelled obscenities while kicking and spitting savagely, Crane sighed in annoyance. Katrina noticed how unmoved he was by the scene in front of him.

He stepped inside of the cramped cell, and placed his briefcase on a tiny table. "Ms. Tassen hand me the vile with the blue cap and a syringe." Crane ordered sternly, Katrina regretted coming with Crane and obediently handed him the vile and syringe. The security guards pinned the patient against the wall as Crane injected him, the man spun his head furiously and spit in Crane's face. Katrina gasped, Crane pursed his lips in indignation and cleaned himself with a handkerchief.

"Put the patient in a strait jacket and place him in solitary confinement, I will deal with him later." He ordered, his voice terse and sharp. The guards dragged the man out of his cell and down the hall, Crane placed the vile of medicine in his briefcase and stared at Katrina. She stood, silent and wide-eyed, with a click he closed the briefcase.

"Doctor, are you alright?" She asked in a gentle voice, he was clearly irritated and she hoped to soothe his nerves.

"I am, one grows accustomed to a patient's erratic behavior I suppose." He replied, irritation lacing his words, "however, the patient will need further _treatment_."

"You preform treatment with fear toxin?"

"I do, I find it to be very efficient, it has the effect of a sedative once the hallucination is over."

"Do you use it on all your patients?"

"Not all, but I do on most of them," he responded stepping out of the cell. Katrina followed Crane down the hall, "how do you produce such quantity of the toxin?"

He smirked at her curiosity, "I have my ways, perhaps I may show you some day."

She nodded as they continued walking, Crane interrupted the silence with an invitation.

"Ms. Tassen, you seem genuinely interested in my work. I invite you to come to my apartment so you may see my experiments."

Katrina smiled at Crane, her features shadowed by the dim lighting. "I would love to see how you produce the toxin, and I gladly accept your invitation."

"Here we are," Crane announced as he opened the door to apartment 784. Katrina quietly stepped into the dark room and looked out a large window. Gotham's city lights twinkled in the distance, the ever present sound of rushing cars a reminder of the world beneath the lofty apartment. In the dark, Crane reached to illuminate a lamp, casting a soft yellow light in the living room. Katrina and Jonathan had been silent until then, and for a moment their gazes met.

"My laboratory is this way, follow me," Crane called. Katrina smoothed her skirt and walked behind him. A long wooden table filled with vials, a microscope and several syringes sat at the far end of the small room. On the wall hung a large black chalkboard scribbled with notes and equations.

"It's not very impressive I'm afraid, but it is functional." Crane spoke while cleaning the frames of his glasses. Katrina smiled and looked once more around the make-shift laboratory.

"I love it," she replied, still smiling.

"Let me show you the most recent formula," he said while reaching for a thick white binder. He pulled a chair for Katrina and then took his own seat.

"Ibogaine is the prevalent ingredient, followed by a small dose of Ketamine among other things."

Katrina flipped through the pages in the binder, she found it fascinating, as if she was glimpsing into his mind.

"It's interesting you chose Ibogaine, isn't that used to cure addiction?" Katrina questioned as she read page upon page of formulas and notes.

"Indeed it was my original intention to cure a patient suffering from heroin addiction." He cleared his throat before continuing, "though it improved slightly, the patient had a curious reaction to the drug."

Katrina looked up from the binder to Crane, "what reaction did he have?"

"The ibogaine brought about horrible panic attacks, the patient would rave about nightmarish visions of his worst fears. After some experimentation I found the drug affects the amygdala and the thalamus, especially when combined with ketamine."

"Thus creating the fearful hallucinations," Katrina interrupted.

"Exactly," he replied with a smirk.

Katrina closed the binder, "do you only administer the toxin in the form of vaccination?"

"Yes, it seems to be most effective that way." He replied while hastily writing something on a note.

She bit her lip before continuing, "well perhaps you may want to use it in the form of a gas." He looked up from his writing and raised an eyebrow. Crane was astonished, he had never considered converting it in to _fear gas._ The idea was absolutely brilliant.

"Ms. Tassen that is a magnificent idea, one I must confess, I hadn't thought of."

She smiled before replying, "I'm glad you liked it, and please doctor, you may call me Katrina."

He nodded and stood, retrieving a large pile of textbooks. With a thud, he placed the volumes in front of Katrina. "It seems you have the possibility of making a fine partner in my experiments, I suggest you read those." He gestured towards the books before continuing, "they are some of my favorites on the topic of psychopharmacology."

"Thank you I will, " she replied, content that Crane found inspiration in her idea. Katrina picked a smaller volume and flipped through its yellowed pages.

"Katrina, how long have you been studying bereavement counseling?" Crane questioned while writing an equation on the chalkboard.

She smiled at hearing her name spoken by Crane, he put particular emphasis on the "t" in Katrina. "I was admitted into Gotham University at twenty, I am currently twenty-three."

He nodded and continued writing in silence. Katrina noticed a shabby paperback tucked under a notebook on the table. She lifted the book, "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow by Washington Irving" was neatly printed on the orange cover.

"I loved this book when I was a child," she remarked fondly. "I like to think I was named after the heroine and not my great-aunt Katrina."

Crane turned to see Katrina leafing through the pages of the thin book.

"I was called Ichabod Crane throughout my childhood, I must admit I had an affinity for the character." He replied and sat next to Katrina who offered him the book. Crane skimmed through it half-smiling, "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow" had been what sparked his interest in fear.

"Would you like to read from it?" Katrina questioned with a warm smile, Crane looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

"Why not?" He finally said, Crane flipped through the pages till' he found the opening chapter. Katrina smiled eagerly waiting to hear his voice narrate one of her favorite stories.

"In the bosom of those spacious coves which indent the eastern shore of the Hudson, at that broad expansion of the river denominated by Dutch navigators. There lies a small market-town or rural port, which by some is called Greensburgh, but is more generally known by the name of Tarry Town."

Crane stopped to adjust his glasses, Katrina who was still smiling asked in a quiet voice, "Doctor the lighting is poor, would you like another lamp?"

"No I think it would be better to sit in the living room," he replied standing from the chair, the novel bookmarked by his finger. They sat on a small tan colored couch, Crane cleared his throat and proceeded reading.

"Not far from this village, perhaps two miles, there is a little sequestered glen. In this glen, one finds the small village by the name of Sleepy Hollow. A drowsy, dreamy influence seems to hang over the land, and pervades over its very atmosphere."

Katrina slid closer to Crane and peered in the book as he read. He looked at her with a subtle smile and continued reading.

"The whole neighborhood abounds with local tales, haunted spots and twilight superstitions. The dominant spirit that haunts this enchanted region, is the apparition of a figure on horseback without a head. Such is the general purport of this legendary superstition, which has fueled many wild stories at country firesides, by the name of the Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow."

Crane's reading was interrupted by the sound of a heavy rainstorm. Katrina flinched at the chain of car alarms the thunder set-off. Adjusting his glasses once more, Crane continued reading.

"In this village, there abode in a remote period of American history, that is to say, some thirty years since wight of the name Ichabod Crane. He was a native of Connecticut; which supplies the Union with pioneers for the mind as well as the forest, in the form of countrymen and school masters. Crane was tall, but exceedingly _lanky_ with narrow shoulders, long arms and legs, and hands that dangles a mile out of his sleeves."

Katrina noticed how Crane narrated this passage with tension in his voice, and regretted having asked him to read it. He straightened his shoulders and continued reading in a now more relaxed, dull tone.

"To see him striding along the profile of the hill on a windy day, with his clothes bagging and fluttering about him, one might have mistaken him for the embodiment of famine. Or a _scarecrow_ eloped form a cornfield. Ichabod Crane, quickly fell in favor of the country-damsels. Aside from teaching in the schoolhouse, he also became a professor of music. Among these musical disciples who assembled, to receive instruction in psalmody, was _Katrina von Tassel_."

Crane paused to see Katrina grinning as he read the passage, she slid even closer to see the small illustration of Ichabod kissing Katrina von Tassel's delicate hand. Crane glanced at his wristwatch its hands read 10:15 pm, he proceeded reading.

"She was a blooming lass, ripe and rosy-cheeked. Katrina was universally famed not only for her beauty, but her vast expectations. Ichabod Crane had a soft and foolish heart towards women; and it is not to be wondered at, that so lovely a figure soon found favor in his eyes."

Crane had been reading for an hour before Katrina, lulled by his warm deep voice, fell into a peaceful sleep. Her head rested lightly on the shoulder of Crane's tweed coat, her chest rose and fell in slow breaths. A serene beauty befell Katrina as she slept, Crane, unsure of what to do, continued reading to the peaceful falling of rain and Katrina's quiet breaths.


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

Hello readers! I present a chapter, short and sweet, but it marks an important milestone in Katrina and Jonathan's relationship. Let me know what you think! Thank you for all follows, favorites and reviews. Enjoy!

Katrina slowly blinked her eyes open. Everything around her was enveloped in a soft yellow light and she was still warm with drowsiness. A rosy tinge colored her cheeks at realizing she had fallen asleep on Crane's shoulder, and now he slept soundly, book in hand, glasses almost slipping off. She stood slowly from the sofa so not to wake him. Walking silently to his "laboratory," Katrina collected her belongings and the books Crane had given her.

"How was your rest Ms. Tassen?" A voice behind Katrina inquired, she turned to see Crane standing in the doorway.

"I apologize for falling asleep, thank you for reading to me."

"It's nothing to thank me for, I also enjoyed the reading."

She smiled at his words and accommodated the stack of books in her arms. "I had no idea you were so fond of "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow."

Crane adjusted his glasses and faced Katrina. "I was never fond of the story, rather it interested me."

He stooped down and picked up a book that managed to escape Katrina's arms. "I was an inquisitive child, so naturally, it puzzled me to think of a headless-man capable of riding a horse."

Katrina suppressed a giggle, "it would seen Doctor, that only you are capable of finding logic within a fable."

He smirked before replying, "I have always tried to rationalize things."

"What was your deliberation then, on the state of the headless horseman?"

Crane raised an eye-brow, _"the girl is teasing me," _he thought and half-smiled.

"He was not _physically_ headless, Katrina, he was metaphorically headless. The man was insane, the concept of him taking people's heads was merely a metaphor for driving people insane from _fear._"

Katrina nodded, smiling at hearing her name escape Crane's lips. Their conversation fell in silence, until Katrina quietly asked, "what time is it?"

Crane glanced at his wrist watch, "the time is 3:00 am."

"I should be getting home then, thank you for the lovely evening Dr. Crane."

Crane turned on his heel and walked to the front door, Katrina followed in small steps.

The apartment halls were quiet, the light rain shower present through out the evening, was now barely detectable. It seemed as though the city itself had grown silent. Crane and Katrina unsure of how to bid farewell, simply stood at the thresh-hold of the door in this stifling quietude. They gazed at each other, holding unflinching eye-contact.

Katrina stared into Crane's lucent blue eyes, and felt the familiar magnetism in his gaze. For a moment she wondered what it must be like, to live and move in a flow of enigma. That is was truly attracted her to Crane, his enigma and intelligence. Crane noticed a sprinkle of sandy freckles along Katrina's delicate nose. Then he looked in her eyes, a swirling mixture of sea-green and turquoise, unlike any color he'd ever seen. Her breathing was slow and deliberate, Jonathan hardly noticed it. His own heartbeat drowned any trace of sound around him. Katrina flattened her shoulders against the door frame and slowly, almost awkwardly, Crane leaned in until their lips met.

A warm current shot through Katrina's spine, leaving a pleasant hollowness in her belly. Crane eased into the kiss, letting his hand support Katrina's jaw. Everything around them, the walls of the apartment, the barely discernible sounds of the city, their breathing, melted into a single low thrum. They didn't pay much attention to the kiss, so much as they noticed and reveled in the feeling of Katrina's hands in Crane's hair, and Crane's warm exhales on Katrina's neck.

At last they pulled away, their lips moist and faces flushed.

The moment was still sinking in for both of them, but especially for Crane. He kissed Katrina Tassen, _Jonathan Crane_ kissed a woman. It wasn't all that long ago Bo Griggs had ridiculed and humiliated Jonathan for harboring romantic notions towards Sherry Squires.

Then unexpectedly, Katrina embraced Crane and let out a quiet sigh.

"_How different things are now," _Crane thought to himself. Katrina was the only person who had ever shown interest in his experiments. Katrina was the only one who he trusted. Being with Katrina felt as natural to Crane as thinking and breathing, and would eventually, prove to be as essential.

He slowly enveloped Katrina in his arms and lightly rested his chin on her hair. Katrina knew the moment Crane embraced her, that she was completely and entirely his. A feeling of surrender washed over her being. This frightened Katrina, who had always prided herself in her independent nature. She had been away from her parents from the tender age of sixteen. Always relying on her intelligence and clever disposition to pull her through any situation. Being with Crane made her feel safe_. Safe, _what a strange, unappreciated feeling that is. The feeling of being cherished and cared for, the feeling of trust that it implies. For the first time in Katrina's privileged life, these sensations were present within her. She looked admiringly at the man responsible for the warmness in her chest, and the smile on her lips, before resting her head on his chest.

The rhythmic pulse of his heart, mirroring her own.


End file.
